The Betrayers
by Thatz
Summary: There were two kinds of life. The simple, and the complicated. There was the simple life everyone strove for, following a daily routine, never questioning, dead to the world. And then there was the complicated life. The life of The Betrayers. AU MarlyVex
1. Prolouge

AN: HELLO! So, guys, here's another fic. Yeah, yeah I know. But this baby needed to get out of my head. I actually have been sick for the past two days, and i wok up early in the morning, and thought up this puppy. Actually... I thought up a part later int he story, but I like this beginning. Sorry it's short. Because I'm inspired on this baby, The next chapter of BtTSoMS might not be up for another week or two, ok? ): But I hope all of you like this one!

**The Betrayers**

**Prolouge **

There was a simple and complicated sort of life in this world. There was the life where one went through their daily routine, trying nothing whatsoever to change that routine, never questioning. They would go to school, go to jobs, whether they liked it or not, looking upon others with bleak eyes, wondering, maybe, if one day their lives may change, but resting no hope on these possibilities, resigning themselves to live an empty life. If they were lucky, they would find another like them to get married, have kids, and eventually die next to. These people did not accept the different, were unrelenting, and dead. Dead to the world. Brain's shut out the interesting, the happiness, and the _hope_ that one would feel every once in a while without even _wanting_ to.

This was simple. The simple life everyone strove for. The simple life everyone was forced into, whether they liked it or not. On the other hand, there was the complicated life. People who wanted to be free of the sham that was this government, these restraints that have held everyone back for centuries. Shunned, exiled, these people were dead in the government's eyes. Worse than any other person in the world. Betrayers.

Vexen was normal. Resigned to his boring life of office work, eyes a dead, dull green to the outside. He had whirling thoughts in his brain, which he refused to accept as his own. They were thoughts of another projected into his brain, buzzing like flies. Like bees, stinging for attention. The man would just wince, and smack them down, killing them, once again silencing the creativity that leaked from his core.

He had been raised in a harsh world, parents ingraining these restrictions into the soft tissue of his brain since he was born. There was to be no inspiration. No art, no science, no useless _thoughts_ filling his head, trying to dull out his purpose in life. That was to live. To live, and nothing else. He was to grow up, get good grades in school, get a girlfriend, get a job with good pay, marry his girlfriend, have kids, and die. He would ingrain the same morals and ideals into his children's brains, forever scaring them and conforming them to this society that he lived in. That he was condemned to live in.

There was a sense of surreal calm settling over his country. His large country of ideas that no other country accepted. There was no other life to follow, other than the one he was living, right now. But as if it could be called living.

He had been forced from the youngest age possible to sit still, and practice, actually _practice_ to not think. There would be no stray ideas threading into his subconscious in the future. He was taught to obey a strict set of rules, which were still set in his internal filing cabinet, filed away neatly, ready to be at a moment's notice pulled out and examined.

There was to be no disobeying the law. The government's word was life. There was no other race more superior to their own, no other country that could defeat them. There was no acceptance of anyone of skin ten shades darker than milky white. No acceptance of homosexuals, transexuals, metrosexuals, anyone other than heterosexuals. There was no pre-marital sex. Nothing other than monogamy when married.

There was no imagination allowed. People were not supposed to think anything of the sort. There was no artwork, except of the great leader. There was no reading of texts other than carefully scanned "books of study", as they had been titled. All books that so much as hinted at thoughts unlike the countries own were destroyed by burning at a great bonfire every year in the center of the capital.

There was no music except for few classical works allowed to the public. Even these were played rarely over the one radio station, government controlled. The people of the country tuned into these special broadcasts whenever they were played, although most were not very interested in them whatsoever, having had it taught to them that music was useless, good for nothing other than distraction.

They were watched twenty-four seven. Every minute of every hour in the day, ever hour of the week, every week in the month, and every month in the year. There were cameras everywhere. The darkest alleyways and the brightest shopping malls were full of those little black cameras, beady eyes of the government watching over every single move every person made. There was no such thing as privacy any more.

Nothing was safe.

-------------------------

Even since Vexen was little, he had heard tales of 'The Betrayers'. They were a group of men and women who had found the conforming nature of the society too much to bear, and had gone against the government. They had been overpowered however, when they had planned an attack upon the leader, and all had been exiled. They had been placed in a tall building at the border of the country, black with age, windowless except for the top floor. They were not allowed to leave the country, as they would have spread word of the corrupt government. They were kept in this tower to stay contained.

They were viewed as diseased. They _were_ diseased in the eyes of the government.

Vexen was told these stories to be taught to fear these 'Betrayers'. They were ruthless, killing anyone to reach their goal of overthrowing the government. They also watched everyone, searching for those who seemed unfit for the government lifestyle, and scooped them up, bringing them back to that tall black tower to live their lives with those demons.

The government had tagged the first of the Betrayers, tattooing them with the ancient language, the ancient character for 'Fate'. They all had the same tattoo, on the neck, below the ear, scaring them, exiling them for good. Because of this, there were no turtlenecks allowed. They were never sold, never bought, never imported, never produced in the country. There were no neck scarves, no wide necklaces, nothing that could possibly block the dreaded tattoo, allowing for the Betrayers to sneak back into society.

Vexen used to have nightmares about being stolen in the night from his bed, away from his parents, taken to that looming black tower on the horizon that was always there, always looming. He had seen pictures of the tattoo the group had been branded with, and it loomed in his mind. He had told his parents of this, and they had looked at him blankly.

"You wouldn't be having nightmares if you cleared your mind every night, like you have been taught to."

Vexen never dreamed again. But, in his core, he still harbored that fear that he would one day be abducted, never to see his family again. And he never realized that this fear could become reality.

**-------------------------**

AN: R&R, tell me what you think, please!


	2. Stolen

AN: Hey guys, second chapter up ALREADY?! O: But anyway, I'm really sick, and reviews would make me feel loads better. Please?

**The Betrayers**

**Chapter one: Stolen**

The loud, obnoxious beeping of his alarm clock awoke Vexen, the day looking nice, as usual, the sun streaming through the blinds, the other side of the bed empty and cold. The blonde turned off the alarm with a press of his palm and got up, slipping his feel into the fluffy white slippers that were always by the side of his bed, and he stood up from the mattress, pulling the sheets and blankets up neatly.

He took a shower, got dressed, and ate breakfast in the same order, same time frame as he usually did everyday, and left his house at seven on the dot, locking the door behind him. He got into his car, and drove to work.

The blonde man lived a normal life. The simple life. He had gone to a good high school and college, gotten good grades, and was now working an office job, filing case reports on Betrayers. Vexen never questioned it, never questioned his life, and went about is business every day with a calm air, resigned to this routine.

The blonde pulled up to his office building, nodding hello to his co-workers as all of them arrived at ten-to-seven, and entered the tall, glitteringly clean building together.

He was being watched.

----------------------

A man in a black suit sat in a chair high above land, looking out a wall of solid glass towards the horizon, swirling a glass of champagne in his hand, his eyes unfocused, but still looking at the group of glitteringly clean buildings quite a few miles away.

A wall of televisions controlled by ten men were playing softly in the background. So softly, that you could not make out what one television was saying, but it still made a slightly loud mass of sound, rolling over the slightly slumped man in his regal chair, still staring out towards the glowing city.

A presence behind him made the man turn his head slightly.

"Yes." He asked monotonously, taking a small sip of his alcohol. The man behind him straightened nervously, playing with the cuffs of his navy blue jacket, resisting the urge to reach his hand up and play with the long strands of his hair falling down his neck.

"Sir, the preparations are ready."

The man in the chair sat up suddenly, looking back at the boy who just became a man a few days ago, fidgeting and biting his lip. He was new to his job, nervous to be speaking to the top man. His fidgeting stopped in shock when the other smiled at him, the toothy grin having a somewhat sinister edge, throwing back the last of his drink and standing up suddenly.

"Thank you Demyx. I wish you luck on your first retrieval." He nodded, placing the empty glass on a table next to the chair, and walked to the men manning the televisions, starting to give orders. When done, he entered an elevator, and the doors closed on the regal figure standing with his hands clasped behind his back. Demyx just watched him leave, still standing behind the single chair facing those windows.

"You're welcome, Marluxia."

----------------------

Vexen was first alerted to something wrong by the scream. No one ever screamed in this country. There was nothing to scare someone that much. The woman's high pitched scream rang out on the streets, making all of the people on his floor look up, but no one got up, except for the boss. He looked out the window and blanched, face turning white, before quickly turning and running towards his office.

Then the alarm went off.

Sirens loud and wailing, the exact sound of the air raid sirens used once back during the Great War. Red lights flashed, and people panicked.

Everyone knew what those sirens were for.

Vexen ran to the window, looking out to see those dreaded helicopters that everyone had been told to avoid at all costs. They were black, with that one symbol on them. Vexen had seen them once when he was little, but his parents hid him away, and when he had emerged from the basement of his house, there were ruins everywhere. Fear gripped his heart, thoughts running through his head so fast, as if they had just been unleashed by a dam break, and a throbbing pain hit his temples, making him falter and lean against the wall.

The sound of blades cutting through the air filled his ears, and he looked up to see one of those black choppers right outside the office window, a young man motioning towards him from the inside of the black monster. The two connected eyes, and Vexen ran.

The blonde ran across the office, fear coursing through his veins, clamoring down the emergency stairs, stumbling when he hear the crashing of glass from the floor he had just been on. He kept going, those alarms sounding in his ears as he ran, breath tearing in his throat, hearing the screams of terror form the floors above him, and the yells of deeper voices clamoring down the stairs after him, heavy boots making the metal clang.

No thoughts ran through Vexen's head now. Just fear. Fear of being captured by those murderers. The men and women who had killed his parents. That man in the passenger seat of the helicopter had pointed right at him, their eyes had connected, and Vexen had seen determination.

And it scared the shit out of him.

He left the stairwell and ran out of the building, hearing distant shouts behind him as he kept running, cutting through alleyways to try to escape the chopping of those blades and the thunk of the heavy boots on the men following him. After running down a long block, he cut suddenly onto a more deserted street, people running with him, shielding him slightly from the three dreaded helicopters circling the sky, searching. He turned into a narrow alleyway, and became lightheaded as he began to hyperventilate, and his eyelids fluttered, making him stumble in his steps and fall heavily to the asphalt. He breathed deeply and evenly, trying to ignore the footsteps following him, and he got back up, legs screaming at their overuse, and began to run again.

He entered another alleyway, and hurried down it, looking over his shoudler. Then he bumped into something warm and solid. The blonde turned his head quicky, fear engrained on his features and running through his veins as he came face to face with a tall, built blonde man, looking down at him. Behind him were a man and a woman, both aiming guns at Vexen's head. He backed up slowly, and hearing footsteps behind him, he whirled around, seeing that man from the building window at the other end of the alleyway, smiling slightly at him.

"Caught you."

Vexen looked around, face hardening as his eyes fixed on a fire escape on the side of a building, and smirked mockingly at the man watching him.

"Not yet."

And he jumped.

Both groups leapt forward to stop him, but he hoisted himself up quickly, climbing up the unsteady metal rungs, mind focused on getting somewhere he could hide. He tested the few windows he came upon, but all were locked being standard procedure for an event like this.

Shots rang out behind him, down the narrow space between the two buildings, coming from the main street as the National Guard came to protect their turf. Orders were being made into a walkie-talkie, and the clamoring footsteps behind Vexen spurred him to stop checking windows and just _run_.

He reached the top of the building, and there was no escape.

The three helicopters were stationed above the building, creating ferocious noise and wind beating down on Vexen, making him fall to his knees in his weakened state. The men and women emptied off of the fire escape, circling around him, keeping him from running again. The largest helicopter came closer, side door opening, and a man stepped out.

His pink hair flew around his face in the wind created by the blades, and he clutched tightly to a side bar, feet resting sturdily on the landing skid as he looked down at the heavily breathing man collapsed on the rough concrete of the building's roof. Vexen stared up at him with fear, anger, and hate in his green eyes, burning for the first time in his life, and the other smiled slightly, blue eyes reflecting nothing at all.

The man made a small motion with his hand, and the men and women closed in on Vexen, making him panic.

"Get-Get away from me!" He stumbled up, circling around to find an exit in the mass of bodies, but found none.

And a hand shot out, grabbing his arm. He struggled and yanked to get it free, reaching over to claw with the nails of his other hand, only to find it was also securely grasped. He struggled and tried to kick out, but was soon, pinned to the ground, unable to move. He struggled and writhed, trying to throw off the people holding his arms and legs, but to no avail.

The man standing on the copter smiled, and motioned to the first man he had seen, who was sweating slightly as he held up a gun, aiming it at Vexen's neck. He began to struggle even more, watching the gun with horror, watching it waver as it switched it's targets from his neck to the underside of his chin to his heart.

He screamed in fear. The gun went off. Shock, pain, nausea, darkness.


End file.
